Something in the night
by Old Maid Wilkes
Summary: "They should have been locked up together long ago", as one reviewer said.
1. Chapter 1

_Hi! I had originally planned to post this on Valentine's Day, so that should tell you a thing or two about my work ethic as well as my relationship with deadlines. Anyway, here's another standalone...ish little story from the same universe as Uncharted territory. In other words:_

 _Still locked in together._

 _Still bantering._

 _Still full of inconsistencies._

 _Actually, this is set some time before UT so while I can't promise Rhett will come out of it completely unscathed, his arm will at least be in full working order when we begin. So without further ado:_

 **Part 1/3**

"Giving up already? Is this really the same man who boldly stated that if he..." she goaded, scrunching her face into a grimace equally insulting to both, and added in an overly proud and threatening voice: "... wanted something bad enough, no lock would keep him out?"

One corner of his mouth went down with a huff as he observed her unflattering impersonation.

"Is this really the same woman who found my coarse company so 'disgusting' that she cast me out? Besides, you're not doing anything to assist me. If I didn't know any better, I'd say you're finding our current situation rather amusing."

"First of all, I did not find-" she began heatedly, before realizing her slip and collecting herself. "I mean, I _do not_ find our current situation amusing."

"And second of all..?"

"Huh?"

"Nothing." he smiled, teeth glimmering in the dim light.

Scarlett sniffed, and lifted her chin. "I'm in no hurry to get out of here, if that's what you're hinting at."

"That was as a matter of fact _not_ what I was hinting at, my sweet ignoramus, but go on."

She knit her brows at the foreign sounding word, and muttered: "As I said, I'm in no hurry to return to the others and resume the exhausting little miss Goody Two-Shoes act. At least when I'm with you, I don't have to make an effort."

Rhett opened his mouth to reply, frowned, and closed it again. Scarlett revelled in the affronted silence that followed, and cast him a provocatively sweet and insincere smile. He returned her smile with an equally hollow of his own, tipped an invisible hat in honor of her dishonesty, and returned his attention to the door. Scarlett, who was perched on top of a wine crate, observed his dubious progress with a dull, faraway expression.

"You obviously didn't exaggerate." he commented after some time, as he wiped the perspiration from his forehead. At her nonplussed expression he nodded pointedly to her idle demeanor, and added: "About not making an effort. You know, I'm beginning to question the airs you give yourself about saving Tara. You're about as useless as-"

"Don't drag Ashley into this!" she growled warningly.

He paused to glance at her quickly, queerly, before resuming his attempts. "As useless as arrogance in battle, a conscious in business-" He shot her another quick side glance "- or fidelity in a marriage."

He did not raise his voice at the last words, nor emphasize them in any way, but Scarlett nevertheless felt her cheeks grow hot in unexpected shame. For while she had remained physically faithful to Rhett, her heart had always - _would_ always - belong to another. She thought of the countless times she had lain in Rhett's arms and wished he was Ashley, and flinched.

Then again, he had some nerve dropping snide remarks about fidelity! For all she knew, he might have been openly consorting with Belle Watling for years! Not to mention parading around all evening in their home, in front of every dragon in the Old Guard, with Lorena on his arm. At least her and Ashley's love was beautiful and- and pure, and- Melly's sweet, trusting face appeared before her, and Scarlett swallowed uneasily.

"You seem to be doing just fine without me. Without my help." she corrected swiftly, and raised her chin to cover up the faux pas. "Besides, you'll knock down that door in no time. I can always count on you to get me out of whatever predicament I'm in- be it the fall of Atlanta or a mourning dress."

Rhett's eyebrows rose in surprise. "I'm feasting on crumbs tonight!" he declared. "What's the occasion?"

"Crumbs, fiddle-dee-dee!" Scarlett snapped irritably. "You make it sound like-"

"… you're luring me into a trap?" he supplied.

"… I'm coaxing a lonely prisoner into a proposal." Scarlett countered, unfazed. Rhett froze with his back turned to her, and Scarlett immediately regretted her words. They had never approached the subject of that afternoon before, except for the truce offering shortly after her second wedding. Scarlett found this silent agreement somewhat baffling, considering he had teased her - and she had berated him - about more or less everything else. But somehow, they instinctively knew her visit at the jail had been of no credit to either of them, and therefore better left unmentioned. Scarlett had been very pleased with this arrangement, so it was with a rare sense of self-reproach that she wondered what on earth had possessed her to say _that_. She felt the brittle and unexpected peace, that had somehow forged between them when the door slammed shut, cracking. Then Rhett slowly turned around to face her, leaned back against the wall with a blank, unreadable expression, and she held her breath in trepidation.

"That's what I said." he related with a lazy wave of his arm. "Did it work?"

Scarlett stared at him and blinked. "Whu- _what_?"

"Your coaxing?"

She grinned. It was back on. "Of course." she answered confidently with a lifted chin.

"Is that so?" A flicker of light returned to his eyes, and two black brows rose in surprise.

"Well…" Scarlett shrugged carelessly. "Eventually."

He tried not to smile at her cynical conclusion of their six year long courtship.

"Then again, you don't mind waiting, do you?" he countered. "I've never known such devotion - regardless of how misplaced it might be."

That jab was more like his old self she thought with annoyance, but decided to brush it off. She was not about to fly off the handle, not when he had just allowed her back into his good graces.

"I'll take that as a compliment!"

"Then you aren't a very good listener."

" _And you aren't a very good complimenter_!" she immediately shot back, riled.

"No? That's not what Lorena said. Then again, she _is_ a good complimenter..."

The brittle peace she had fought so hard to keep a minute ago, cracked like a China bowl hurled against a marble mantelpiece. She stormed past him, all wounded pride and indignant air, and strode towards the door with long, purposeful steps.

"Get out of my way!" she cried, intending to forcefully shove him aside, but he barely faltered.

"What are you _doing_?" His eyes grew wide when he realised her intent. "You're a _woman_! You'll only end up dislocating your shoulder, or worse!"

"What is it to you?" she snarled.

"Well… Nothing. Except I don't want to be stuck in here all evening with some useless cripple!"

"Oh, you won't be. That's the entire point, you idiot."

"For heaven's sake, stop it! Before you rip your God-damn arm out of its socket!"

"I know how to knock down a door!"

"I thought you were more in the habit of locking them?"

"And I thought you wanted my assistance!"

"How is _you_ obstinately maiming yourself of any assistance to _me_? _Jesus_ _Christ_ , be careful!" he added with a cry as she forcefully slammed into the door again, her bullheaded determination compensating for whatever she lacked in physical strength.

"I'm not some silly goose who's going to..," she sputtered, fumbling for the right words. "... _sprain her ankle_ at the first sign of physical labour."

"No, but- _Scarlett, I'm serious_! Stop it!"

"Oh, please!" she laughed, preparing to fling herself at the door once more. "I told you- I'm not some stupid, frail- _God's nightgown, that hurt_!" she growled, clasping her shoulder. "My goodness!" she added, eyes watering as she massaged the sore spot. "I did _not_ see that coming."

Rhett groaned and kneaded his forehead.

"What's the matter?" she managed through clenched teeth. "Do you have a headache?"

"I'm married to one."

" _Please!_ " she scoffed. "So _I'm_ the headache? Try sharing a bed with old ginger whiskers!"

"No thanks!" Rhett said, carelessly waving away her offer. "I never cared much for the marital bed. Although I suppose I _could_ have made an exception for Frank…" he conceded slowly. "But everyone and their sister was apparently out to get him."

She glared defiantly at him with an angry, childish pout. "Don't make fun of me." she sulked.

"I wasn't making fun of you. I was reprimanding you for some of the horrible decisions you've made."

"I know it was stupid and, well, a bit heedless of me. Even though you're certainly to blame too, for putting me in that position in the first place. But I've paid the price for my recklessness. And I obviously wouldn't do it again, given the opportunity."

He took a stumbling step backwards, eyes gleaming with mockery. "Have you grown a conscience? I don't believe it!"

"What? No! _My_ _arm_." she clarified testily. "I can barely move it."

He grinned, and leaned back against the wall with his hands in his pockets. "So? What do you want me to do about it? Marry a woman with sense the next time?"

"Any woman with sense wouldn't have you. You're way too much trouble." When his predatory grin only grew wider with each word, she added: "And you're not nearly as irresistible as you think you are!"

His dark eyes glittered with amusement as he considered her words. Then he leaned away from the wall, standing at full height, and slowly made his way over to her. He stopped in front of her, so close that she had to take a stumbling step back to look him in the eyes.

"My pet, if I ever bothered to use my charm on you, you wouldn't be able to stand for days." he said, the challenge in his eyes taking the edge off his words, filling them with self-deprecating humor rather than menace. To compensate for her involuntary stumble before, Scarlett straightened her back, raised her chin, and took a step closer.

"Ha! I doubt it." she proclaimed confidently, a smile wrinkling the corners of her eyes. "I've heard numerous tales of your alleged ways with women, but that's just it- they're all _stories_!"

His eyes narrowed as her insult hit home, a smile tugging at his lips.

"And you want evidence? Is that it?" he countered softly with a small, curious tilt of his head.

Scarlett's self-assurance wavered for a moment as her mind they still engaged in harmless banter, or had they unknowingly slipped into some new, unchartered territory? She vaguely recognized the flickering flame in the dark depths of his eyes,but its meaning was as lost to her now as it had always been. She only knew it made her feel discomfited, lightheaded and immensely self-aware, and that she had to put an end to this- this- well, whatever this was. She ought to push him away, physically remove him from her personal space so that she could think clearly again. She looked down at his chest, pictured her palms against it, caught herself staring, blinked, and looked up again.

"It seems only fair." she swallowed loudly as he grinned and leaned in even closer.

She felt his breath on her face, which caused a slight tremble in her hands, and could think of nothing to do but stand straight as a ramrod and stare dumbly at his moustache.

"Just ask Lorena." he suggested in a silky whisper. His complacent smile was rather short lived, however, as Scarlett pushed him away with a growl and slapped him across the cheek with all her might. This time he actually stumbled backwards, caught off guard by both the assault and the sheer force of it.

"Oh, would you look at that? I _could_ move it, after all!" she said in mock astonishment, as she flexed the muscles in her fingers before her.

"Glad to be of assistance." Rhett muttered dryly, as he pressed his hand against the side of his face and winced. " _Good God, woman_! You still know how to throw a punch!"

Scarlett glanced at him out of the corner of her eye, and her lips curled into a satisfied smirk when she found a bright red silhouette of her hand garnishing his cheek. She tried, albeit unsuccessfully, to bite back a wider smile as she insincerely mumbled:

"I'm sorry I tarnished your pretty face."

He looked up quickly, eagerly. "You think I have a pretty face?"

In that instant, she wished she could have bitten her tongue. But there had been no mockery behind his inquiry, and Scarlett realized that she - miraculously - still held the upper hand. She pretended to consider his question for a moment, then scrunched up her nose and shook her head adamantly.

"No. You're not my type." she answered dismissively. "I prefer the blond variety."


	2. Chapter 2a

_More immature banalities coming up! Did I mention that this story is loosely based on an old Cheers episode? If you don't enjoy Sam and Diane's banter, then 1) who and/or what ARE you? 2) you might as well stop reading now._

 _Sleep tight, Muddy Wilbury. You meant the world to me._

 **Part 2a**

 **Show a little faith, there's magic in the night**

The atmosphere had become rather frosty of late. Even Scarlett - notoriously oblivious of her surroundings - was not completely unaware of a sudden change in her husband's demeanor.

Rhett had been staring - glowering, more like it - into the wall for the past quarter of an hour. Each attempt at conversation had been cut short, as he had taken to answer everything with a curt "yes" or "no". If he even bothered with an answer at all, that was. Scarlett leaned forward and absentmindedly scratched her upper arm, carefully assessing her husband. His jaw was set, his face stubbornly turned away from her, and he was rapidly tapping his foot against the floor in a passive aggressive manner; the very picture of brooding severance. She tried once more to approach him, acting as if nothing was amiss:

"Did you see Mrs. Merriwether's dress this evening?" Scarlett said with a small laugh. Receiving no answer, she graciously charged on. "What in God's name was she thinking? I'll never be able to wear puffed sleeves again after tonight. Her meaty arms flopped around like- like a- like a pair of worn out concertinas!"

"No."

He didn't expand his answer to reveal if it meant ' _no, I did not_ ' or ' _no, they did not_ '. Either way, Scarlett reasoned, it was a horrendous lie. She had spotted that ruffled abomination a mile away, and the old peacock had most certainly looked like a broken flutina. Even Melanie had said so! Or at least voiced a miserable "I'm sure the lights are playing some trick", which was about as far as her open disapproval went. The old Rhett would have laughed at her apt observation, and she had a sneaking suspicion that the Rhett of half an hour ago would have done so as well. The present Rhett, however, looked as though he had swallowed a toad. She glared at the back of his head, silently willing him to turn around. Nothing. The tip of his shoe clicked against the stone floor with increased tenacity. Scarlett, whose reputed patience did not precede her, massaged her forehead as the clacking sound bounced sharply against the walls.

She heroically refrained from rolling her eyes when she realized he had no intention of warming up towards her. Then she sighed and cleared her throat. _Always the bigger person_ , she mildly chided herself, before she took the first charitable step towards reconciliation:

"I honestly don't know what you're moping about-"

His head whipped around at the sound of her voice, the restless foot thankfully coming to a stop. " _Of course_ you don't." he interrupted with a sneer. "You have the perception skills of a blind lobster."

"So I prefer blondes, what of it?" Scarlett went on, gracefully sidestepping her partner's stomping foot. "That's hardly the end of the world- not even for someone as extraordinarily conceited as you." she added as an afterthought, a small retribution for the lobster quip. "Besides, if there's ever a man born who's not attracted to me, I'm sure I would accept it gracefully."

"'Accept it _gracefully'_?" he repeated with a croak of disbelief. "You'd send the cherubs flying so fast it makes my head spin just to think of it."

"Look. I'm not saying you're… well, _ugly_ or anything." Scarlett went on, unperturbed. "I'm sure you're even considered handsome by some standards, although…" she trailed off.

"Although _what_?" he demanded testily.

"... Although I can't imagine what those standards might be." she finished lamely.

His face twitched in a way she interpreted as vain disbelief, and Scarlett's eyes shone with frenzied triumph when she realized a second strike had found its mark. Then Rhett began to chuckle slowly. " _Asinus asellum culpat_ " he quoted, with the kind of unflattering pomposity normally practiced by Dr. Meade.

She rolled her eyes in annoyance when it became clear he had no intention of elaborating further. "Go on then." she urged with a resigned sigh. "I know you're dying to lecture me."

"I said: that was an interesting choice of words…"

"Thank you."

"... seeing as you're no beauty yourself."

" _Excuse me_?" she croaked.

"That cannot come as a surprise, surely?" he said, his eyes curiously straying to a lock of hair that stood out from the rest like a twig. Scarlett followed his gaze out of the corner of her eye, gasped in horror, and desperately tried to pat the unruly curl back in place. It would have none of it. "Considering that it would be the very first thing I'd mention if I were to describe you. Your chin has the stubborn disposition of an Irish peasant-"

Scarlett began to sputter and curse indistinguishably, her face twisting into a furious grimace that did nothing to help her case.

"... and I dare say you've got the mouth of one too."

Stronger than outrage, even stronger than instinct, was the urge to prove him wrong. Said noble cause was the reason she was able to rein in a horrible profanity just as it was leaving her lips. "F… irst of all; you're lying. Second of all, I'm charming."

" _Lorena_ is charming. And beautiful. Whereas you?" he gave her a quick, dispassionate once-over and huffed. "You are a nuisance, and an expensive one at that."

Once again, she bit back her initial - decidedly unchristian - retort. "Charming or not, I don't see your precious Lorena getting you out of here." she answered instead, albeit through gritted teeth. "I, on the other hand, would pick useful over charming any day of the week."

"Your hardheaded _mind_ certainly picks useful over charming, yes. You've made that painfully clear since - quite literally - the moment I met you. Your heart, however? I don't see usefulness playing any prominent part in its decisions."

"Ashley is- well, he doesn't have to be useful!" her mind adjusted quickly, automatically, apparently reeling against such an abominable lie. "He has _honor_!"

"He has…" Rhett nodded in agreement, then shrugged carelessly. "At least for an adulterer. But I don't see neither him nor his honor getting you out of here any sooner than Lorena."

Scarlett tried to conceive an image of Ashley coming to her rescue, but drew a complete blank. "I'm quite capable of taking care of myself, and he knows it." she sniffed instead.

"That is why he let you come to Atlanta, to me, to collect money for the taxes?"

Scarlett let out a roar of frustration.

"He didn't know!" she practically wailed at the unjust accusations being thrown at Ashley. It was hardly _his_ fault for being an ineffective deadbeat in these matters. "And even if he did, he couldn't have stopped me. I had to get that money somehow." Rhett's eyes gleamed in triumph. "And how _dare_ you bring that up again?" she hissed, quickly changing the subject. "It's not like you got off scot-free!"

"Perhaps I'm still nurturing the foolish notion that if the truth stares you in the face often enough, eventually even you will see it!" he barked into her oblivious face. She blinked back at him, owl-like, her nose wrinkling at his sudden, uncharacteristic outburst. He buried his face in his hands with a frustrated groan, and when it resurfaced behind the palms, his face was wiped clean of any emotion. It was almost disturbing, how effortlessly he was able to rein in his feelings. Especially to Scarlett, who held no more control over her temper than she did the weather.

He sank back onto a wine crate and massaged his eyelids in slow circles, and she was taken aback by how old and tired he suddenly looked. As her eyes quickly darted over his composed but resigned posture, she felt some of the earlier resentment slide off her as well. She sighed heavily as she, too, had a sudden urge to sit down and rest for a moment. It was an exciting and stimulating endeavor to be on one's toes at all times - but at the same time terribly draining. Almost as exhausting as acting cordial towards The Old Guard an entire evening, or feigning interest in Ella's childish tangents. Absentmindedly, she looked around for another wine crate. Finding none, she let her gaze wander aimlessly. Suddenly her eyes were alight, blazing with cunning determination - her prior weariness completely forgotten. An idea was hastily forming in her mind.

"Well, however you're planning to enlighten me, it's obviously not working." she said matter-of-factly, as she began to pace across the room. Rhett looked up with wary eyes. "And since the truth won't set you free, it seems you're left with me." she finished with a saucy smile, her face positively alight with creator's bias.

He frowned. "What does that even-"

"It means-" she interrupted impatiently, "I'm getting out of here. And faster than you could say Jack Robinson."

"You mean you're going to incapacitate your other arm as well?" he scoffed, unimpressed, but the vigilance in his eyes had been replaced by a curious gleam. "By all means, go ahead! Will you be slamming it into the door or onto my face?"

"Of course not." she answered tartly. "I'll need my arm in full working order when I'm waving you off at the station in half an hour."

"And how exactly are you planning to do that?"

She held up her hand in front of his face and dismissively wiggled her fingers in the air.

" _Cute_." he huffed. "How are you planning to get us out of here?"

"Considering your recent behavior, I'm not even sure there is a 'you' in 'us' anymore..." she muttered.

"Of course there is, you illiterate fool!"

She focused determinedly on her target, unperturbed by his jeering tone. Rhett swallowed and slowly turned around as he followed her gaze. There was an infinitesimal pause as he - with widening eyes - realized her design, then:

"You're going to _climb_ through the transom?" he asked incredulously, his voice rising with every word.

"Yes."

"You're out of your Goddamned mind! This place is as high as a church - not that you would know. You'll fall and break your neck."

Scarlett seemed thoroughly unimpressed by his dark premonition. "Pff. For your information, I climbed trees just as well as the boys when I was little."

"Oh, sure. When you were _little_." he echoed silkily.

"That's what I sa-" she stopped and gaped as the insinuation hit her. "You _dare-_ "

"Graceful acceptance!" Rhett coughed into his balled fist. Scarlett's mouth closed with a snap, nostrils flaring.

"And anyway, it doesn't matter!" he went on, lazily waving away her indignation. "Everyone gains a little weight with age. Look at Mammy, Pittypat, Dolly Merriwether… Why, I could think of a hundred _unmarried_ women!"

"Keep that up and I could think of a hundred and one!"

One corner of his mouth twitched, once. Scarlett would have missed it, had she not been staring at it. She caught herself, furiously shaking her head to rid it of such heinous thoughts, regrouping her focus to the task at hand. She simply _had_ to take him down a peg or two. His lips stretched into a taunting, self-assured sneer as he guessed her thoughts, and Scarlett's eyes narrowed into slits. Three, at least.

"I hardly need to point out how _exceedingly_ ill-bred it is of you to-" she began, but he cut her off.

"Look, I'm sorry-" he drawled (in a way relieving he was anything but), the palms of his hands forming a protective barrier between them. "- but there's no better way to say it. You're bloated."

"There must be hundreds of better ways to say it! Literally _hundreds_!" Scarlett fumed. "Besides, Mrs. Merriwether was obviously married."

"That was a long time and at least fifty pounds ago!"

"You're such a hypocrite! Why, just- look at this! What do you call _that_?" she cried accusingly, making a dart for his waist and grabbing a handful of flab that had not been present when he left three months earlier.

He calmly looked down at her hand, then back up again. "The time of my life?" he suggested, unperturbed. Scarlett released him with a snort of disgust and flexed her fingers again, with more tenacity this time. _There's something wrong with them_ , she thought with some distress, sensing an unpleasant clamminess in the palm. _And there's something wrong with the circulation in here!_

"Have you got a better idea?"

He shrugged. "Plenty, but - alas! - none as amusing as watching you trying to wriggle your way through that hole."

"Then you'll help me?"

He threw his arms out in mock surrender. "Sure. It'll be elephantastic."

" _Come again_?"

"It'll be fantastic." he repeated with a straight face.


End file.
